That old chestnut (Secret hearts series - 2)
by writerfan2013
Summary: A quick scene drawing on that favourite of TV and ff – the fake kiss. Like unwilling bed-sharing, it is a stock-in-trade for romantic scenes everywhere. This is in an AU pre-Arwen, where a distraction is needed in order to escape the evil clutches of an enemy. Arwen just for fun! Follows on from Secret Hearts, precedes Not Weakness. Reviews always appreciated. -Sef


"We need to draw the guards out from their posts for a few minutes. Give them something to look at." Arthur paused, and his eye fell, as it frequently did, on Gwen. "Ah."

"What?" said Merlin.

Arthur addressed Gwen. Their little hideout in the castle granary echoed with his clear, confident tone. "You'll be with me. We'll act as lovers on a secret assignation. It's unexpected, and should intrigue the Queen. We'll go round to the back of the castle - that will distract her guards while Merlin sneaks in to prepare the trap."

Gwen and Merlin protested.

Arthur put his hands on his hips. "Well?"

"I can distract the guards," Gwen said. "Merlin might need your help. Or you might need his. Sire." She gave Arthur a pointed look.

"Unlikely," said Arthur. "-And you would need a good reason to be outside the walls on your own at night. My plan provides that. "

"Don't drag Gwen into this," Merlin said.

"It's settled then," said Arthur. Gwen rolled her eyes and Merlin glowered, but Arthur was born to be oblivious to the opinions of others. The three parted, Merlin to wait in his place beyond the walls, Arthur and Gwen to return to their roles as guests, prisoners, of the strange castle.

* * *

After dusk, Arthur slipped away from the raucous toasts of the King's men in their hall, through the laughing shadows in the corridors, and met Gwen as she slunk across the rotting drawbridge. They stopped at a point on the derelict side of the castle, where only the wall-mounted flames showed that this was an occupied fortress and not some remnant from the time of dragons. "We're being followed," Gwen hissed.

"I know!" Arthur held out his sword, turned in a circle.

"I hope it's the guards. What if it's soldiers of the Dread King?" said Gwen.

"Don't worry. I'm here," Arthur said. It was typical of him: the assumption that he could overcome any danger, would triumph in any situation.

It would be an annoying arrogance in him, she thought, if it weren't true.

Around them, twilight was deepening into blackness, the trees crouching like bones around the flesh of the castle. A single thrush made his evening call, then fell silent. Their pursuers were nowhere in sight or sound.

"Well, better make it look good." Arthur sheathed his sword and stuffed his gloves into his belt.

Gwen raised her eyebrows at this display of readiness. "Are you going to grab me and kiss me?"

He was affronted. "This is me! They would expect me to do things properly."

Gwen shuffled her feet. The evening breeze was blowing down the back of her neck and making the wall torches flicker. She was uncomfortable in her borrowed gown, all jewelled like a real lady's, and embarrassed in her role as a woman who would meet a man at night, a man beyond her farthest dreams. "Go on then," she said, aware that this was not how you talked to a lord, but unable to stop herself.

Arthur nodded. "Yes." He dropped to one knee and gently took Gwen's hands. "Act as if I'm declaring myself," he whispered. He tilted his face up to her.

"I- " What would that be like? Arthur on his knees, pleading eyes, his calloused sword hand wrapped around both her own... his voice softened so others might not hear, but his jaw set with determination. Or perhaps, if she squinted, nerves.

"Look at me," he whispered.

She was frozen in his gaze, her hands trapped as her heart had always been.

"That's good," he murmured. He glanced around. If there were watchers beyond the circle of torchlight, there was no sign. But the charade must continue if Merlin were to stand a chance of evading the guards. "Now -"

He rose to his feet, moving his body closer to hers. "Forgive me," he said, and kissed her.

Of course he would know how to kiss a girl. His kiss would naturally be perfect - purposeful yet unstudied, bold but tender. As he clasped her to his chest, her hands found his shoulders, then his waist, then the hair trailing over the collar of his tunic. Be the secret lover, she thought. And remember this is not real. But it seemed very real.

They stood for a long time and it was not clear who let go first, possibly Gwen but that, really, did not seem likely. Either way, after long moments, they eased apart.

Arthur blinked at her, hesitating. Gwen unwound her arms from his neck and touched her hand to her lips. His kiss was there still, brave and sweet, as he was.

"Forgiven, then," he said. He rubbed his hand over his hair.

"And would be again," she said. He could dismiss her for that. But love made her bold, made her want to provoke him, to dare him: kiss her again.

Arthur needed no help knowing a challenge. "Better make it convincing, I suppose." But his eyes belied his offhand words. Uncertainty flashed away and left wonder, and fire.

His embrace was from every tale of lovers reunited: his shield hand slid around her waist, his sword hand curling under her chin. Their cloaks swirled together and now she angled her head, offering her mouth, but he smiled and brushed his lips to her cheek, then clasped her to him, his breath in her ear. "Guinevere," he whispered. His nose and mouth were in her neck, his skin warm on hers. She breathed in his hair, his skin - last summer's straw, torch smoke and apples, tired horse and bright passion.

Her fingers relished his hair. She cupped his head, urging him to lift his gaze. "I think this could fool anyone," she said. "But I want to be sure. If you permit me, my lord..."

He smirked at the onset of formality now, when they stood breast to breast, his hands smoothing her hair, hers caressing the fabric over his shoulder blades.

She rolled her eyes. So this was how it might be, between them. All right then. "Arthur," she said. And although it was not ladylike, it was plausible in a secret lover, and so she pulled down his head and put her mouth to his.

"Mmm," he murmured in a tone of businesslike approval. "Yes. Like that."

"What an actor you are, sire." She was breathless, her hair tumbling over her shoulders and his hands. "We must have fooled them now."

"Not yet," he said, and laughed.

And at that moment the guards leapt from their hiding place in the trees, whooping and whirling their axes. The solitary thrush rose shrieking into the sky, and Arthur gripped Gwen's hand and his sword, and they ran.


End file.
